THE ANGEL'S WHISPER.

A superstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland, that, when a child smiles in its sleep, it is "talking with the angels."

BABY was sleeping,

Its mother was weeping,

For her husband was far on the wild

raging sea,

And the tempest was swelling

Round the fisherman's dwelling,

And she cried, "Dermot, darling, oh! come back

to me."

Her beads while she number'd,

The baby still slumber'd,

And smiled in her face, as she bended her knee; Oh, bless'd be that warning,

My child, thy sleep adorning,

For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.

And while they are keeping

Bright watch o'er thy sleeping,

Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me,

And say thou would'st rather

They'd watch o'er thy father!

For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.